


"I know."

by bottlecapfic



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10115339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottlecapfic/pseuds/bottlecapfic
Summary: Oliver and Connor discuss the engagement in "Wes" over Chinese food and wine. This is a continuation into season four, because I'm kinda frustrated with how Pete continues to handle things. Michaela and Asher are rocky. Wes Gibbins is still (unfortunately) dead. Laurel is kinda being difficult. Oliver is frustrated, in love, and it all ends in an eventually.





	

_We find ourselves back in the Coliver apartment, 303._

_Oliver has just asked Connor a very important question, and the latter feels a bit…awkward._

 

“Marry me! I mean it, marry me.” Oliver had the most beaming grin on his face.

Of course, this wasn’t where Connor thought any of this was going, he had just moved back in and all he wanted to do was lay there. Makeout with the man he loved. Forget about Gibbins’ ghost for a while, and lose himself in the arms of somebody who felt like Etta James should blast upon his entering the room. Somebody who wouldn’t _yell_ at him for being honest.

Oliver, he knew was in a state of shock. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Connor could’ve died and he _felt_ that more than anything. The proposal felt like a band-aid. A way for Oliver to know that he wasn’t going to lose him again.

Lose him to the twisted antics of Denver, which he likened to a _Silence of the Lambs_ event.

Lose him to Pax, who was apparently a better lay.

Lose him to something he couldn’t take.

 

Too many of the people he loved had been lost that year, he wasn’t going to lose another.

And he loved Connor, so much. Too much. So much so that the regret he felt after they broke up was just a want to be near him. Constant crying felt heavy, and Thomas wasn’t worth a dime. He didn’t do the thing Connor did at his doorway. Looking him up and down with a half-smirk on his face in a small fall of nervous laughter. Oh, boy did he miss that. He wasn’t Connor.

Nobody was Connor, except Connor. Who felt nicer and more accepting than anyone he had ever been with. It was an addiction, he was sure. At least he was in love with the man he was addicted to. Connor was too, he just didn’t like to say it. Guised behind love for sex because he was _good_ at it-Connor _wanted_ this.

And yet—

“Do you want to get takeout?” Connor realized how out of turn this sounded, and quickly covered, “I mean, we can talk about it. We can talk about _it_.”

Oliver’s grin turned into a small smile, and he quickly caressed Connor’s shoulder.

“I’ll grab the menus. We’ll take it slow.”

 

Easily an hour passed before the food came around. Oliver left a larger tip than necessary because he was just so happy all of this was out in the open. It was as if a soda bottle had exploded in his chest.

“Well, you’re happy.” Connor noticed as Oliver closed the door that his step sprung a little quicker. Nice, the air felt glossy and free. A little more romantic than usual, but Oliver was always a complete romantic. He called Laurel and Frank romantic once!

 “I am happy. Happy to be with you, _finally_.” Oliver sat down next to Connor as Connor started to break open the fried rice, “So why Chinese?”

 “The people? The food? What?” Connor smiled.

 Oliver laughed, “The food! C’mon. What’s with the food?”

 “Chinese food is food for conversation. I learned that growing up, and this is a very important conversation. Grab the wine.”

“Just let me eat…” Oliver said.

“ _Grab_ the wine.”

“White or red?” Oliver sighed, completely in love with the attractive snark on his bed.

“Red,” Connor kept smiling, he didn’t smile often, but this was nice.

“You’re lucky I love you!” Oliver shouted from inside the kitchen, wine glasses twinkling.

“I know!” And Connor dug into his rice. “So, you know I love you too, right? More than anything?”

“Oh, more than anything.” The wine was poured, a couple candles lit. It was like a damn Home and Garden in here. Except for the bedroom. And the underwear. And the fireplace.

 

“So, you know that I would love to marry you?” Connor led.

“Yeah…is that a yes? Is that where we are?” Oliver smiled and kissed him.

Connor broke the kiss after a while, “Hold _on_.” He was smiling, but didn’t want Oliver to let go of him. He felt like home, and that was nice. “You know I love you. You know I love you, but are you sure you want to do this? You know we can stay together right now. This isn’t because of Denver’s crazy? This isn’t because you thought I was dying? Or in jail? Or—?”

Oliver cut him off with another kiss. “This is because I love you. I want you here. I want you here more than anything. Listen, will you listen to me?” 

Connor looked up, intent on devouring his rice. Looked up after Oliver raised his chin.

“ _Ollie_ …”  

“Shut up. You know I love you. You know that much, and it may be too soon, but _I. Love. You._ A year and a half would be a million years to anybody else.” Oliver made some good points.

“I could give a damn about anybody else. If you mean Laurel and Wes, I don’t want to be them. I don’t want to grow dead and sad, plotting that we’ve been married for forty years because I miss you like hell. Yes, _I did miss you like hell_. I missed you so much when I _left_. I had to live with Asher and Michaela: Suddenly in love after what, six months? They’ll break up. I don’t want anybody else to be the reason. I want _us_ to be the reason. I don’t want you, worried that I’m dead to be the reason. I love you so much Ollie, but _eventually_.”  

“You mean that?” Oliver smiled, tears in his eyes.

“You know I do. Now,” wiping Oliver’s tears, “come here.”

 

Connor placed his rice on the bedside table, finished his wine, and began kissing him. Wrapping Connor in his arms, Oliver began to laugh lightly. Connor rested his head on Oliver’s chest and laughed too. “What is it?”

“You know Asher living here made me want to burn this apartment to the ground?”

Connor kissed his collarbone a few times for good measure, “I know.”

“If he and Michaela get married, we move. We move to California and we can do yoga, juice like morons. Be in the sun, I’ll be annoyingly optimistic and drag you out of bed and kiss you like you deserve to be…” Oliver considered Connor’s beautiful eyes and kissed him. Again. This time for a longer time.

“I _know_.”

“Odds are someone is going to get murdered at our wedding.”

“Eh, Annalise will probably do it. Nate will help because he’ll have nothing to do. Then he and Annalise will fight about it for forever. It’s all the same. Except we’ll look good and have an excuse to kiss in front of them.”

“Why is it always Annalise with you?” He laughed, and pushed _that_ little piece of hair off Connor’s forehead.

“Just _come here,_ Ollie. Come here.” Fed up, but smiling Connor pulled Oliver’s face into a kiss.

This time he wasn’t going to stop. Entangled in each other with the taste of merlot on their lips, this is the most comfortable Connor had ever felt with someone.

And Oliver. It was Ollie. How lucky was he? Completely. It was slow, it was intense. Full of laughter and so much love.

They deserved each other. They were in love with each other. _That_ was enough.

 

Screw what anyone else thought. They were in love. And tired.

And _eventually_ engaged.


End file.
